Songs & Marzipan

Marzipan

Did I tell you about Marzipan getting excited about me singing a couple of nights ago? No? My singing isn’t really anything to get excited about so her reaction was a surprise.

It was late and i was listening to music on Youtube to relax before I went to sleep, and I started singing along. It has been a long time since I just sang for no reason but it was a happy little song that lured me in.

Marzipan was in the sitting room, but she ran down the hall, and jumped up beside me as I kept on singing. She put her paw on my shoulder, pulled my head around to face her with her other paw, and peered into my mouth — first with one eye and then the other. Then she stuck her nose in my mouth a bit with her ears flat behind. She drew her head back and gave me little licky-kisses on the tip of my nose and the corners of my mouth, purring as loudly as a bandsaw all the while. I could hardly keep from bursting out laughing, but that seemed quite rude so I went on singing while she stuck her nose in my ear and whuffled.

She kept purring and making little prrrt and mrrrt chirps. Finally she sat down beside me and watched the people on screen singing too, and then we had a super-cuddle and went to sleep together.

She’s weird — in a good way, you know.

It was a little song by ABBA, I Have A Dream, that mentioned “wonders” and “fairy tales”, and Marzipan may have thought it was about her — or at least about the world she knows.

The part about all of this that bothers me is realizing that I haven’t sung for so long that she thought it was something strange and amazing — she acted like she had never heard anything like it before — and she just turned eight, I think. That’s a long time for not singing.

I used to sing a lot when there were no humans around — in the house and in the car. There were story songs that I made up as they went along, and there were songs in a language that no one speaks — or understands. I’ve almost always lived with cats and used to sing to them too, just because they were there. They listened sometimes, but they never got excited about it.

I don’t even remember stopping singing… it was certainly nothing intentional. I got sick and didn’t get well again. I suspect it’s an energy thing. Anyway, that may all be changing now.

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Signs, Storm Winds, Omens, & Birthdays

16 October 1987
On that night, twenty-nine years ago, there was a storm where I lived on a hill outside of Bath in England. It was a terrible, unpredicted storm — the worst at that time of year in 300 years — and the screaming wind woke me just after midnight. When I got up to look out of my small window at the thrashing trees, the window frame was yanked from my hand and slammed it against the stone wall. Luckily, the leaded glass was old and strong and wise to the ways of the wind. It didn’t break.

I looked at a clock: 12:01 AM. It was my 50th birthday. Poking my head out to feel the wind, I calmly said aloud, without the thought going through my brain first, “The winds of change are blowing tonight.”

It was a bit of a struggle to close the window, but then I slept soundly until sunrise, which doesn’t come early in mid-October. Upon awakening, I remembered the storm and looked out again. The autumn leaves were all stripped away, piled in drifts against old walls, and tree debris was everywhere. And I remembered — the winds of change had blown. Everything felt different, as it does after an ordinary storm, but even more so. The air had the sparkle of autumn, clear and bright, scoured clean by untimely wild wintry winds.

And yes, that was a year of great change for me. I moved — not far, just to a cottage nearby. I raised a small standing stone, planted many flowers, covered a lot of the roof with old-fashioned pink climbing roses, found a wild spring under my kitchen floor and persuaded it to move just outside, dug a place for it to make a tiny pond with water lilies, acquired a crafty cat (Samantha, the wisest healer I’ve every known), fell in love unwisely, and went home to Scotland on a holiday accompanied by the cat. (I was born in Oklahoma, grew up there and in Kansas and mostly in California, lived in Norway, moved to Scotland, went back to California, then moved to England where all of this took place — but Home was always Scotland.) It was a busy and life-changing year.

15 October 2016
A lot of things have happened in the twenty-nine years since that storm, and now I’m living in the forest near Port Townsend, Washington. It’s my birthday evening again, and a great storm is predicted. The wind is rising.

16 October 2016
Just as I wrote the above, the electricity went off. Very dramatic. It was 10:01 PM. The most sensible thing seemed to be to sleep, so I did — until the lights came back on — we’d only caught the northern edge of the storm. All of the cats jumped up on the bed, and Gabby Su firmly said, “The lights are on. Isn’t it time for breakfast? Aren’t you going to feed us naooow?”

They know perfectly well that breakfast is at nine, and the clocks in their stomachs are quite accurate. They were probably just hoping to catch me sleepy and off-guard and trick me out of an extra meal. I looked at the clock — 12:20 AM — and said to the cats, “It’s my birthday, you know.” I laid back down, intending to sleep, but I was restless.

So I went outside to look up and around. The wind had died, and I could see the stars in the clearing sky between the quiet trees. I wondered if there would be 79 stars if I counted, but really that was silly — of course there would be 79 — and more! My years are nothing compared to the stars in the sky. But as I stared up at the stars, I heard a quiet voice saying, “The storm is over. The light is back.”

The Rite of Writing Right & The White Rose

A few days ago I went to a talk  by William Kenower at the Writers’ Workshoppe, and one of the first thing he said was that it was of primary importance to write what you truly want to write  — not to worry about the expectations of others, not to be concerned with approval, or any of that  — just to write it. And in the class I attended yesterday (also at the Writer’s Workshoppe), Midge Raymond emphasized the importance of blogging among many other useful things. This whole study thing is, for me, about being a better writer  — and indeed, being a published author at all. I know… I am published and all that, but I want to be better at it.

So here is the blog that I most want to write at this moment:

One of those odd little things that happen so often came up a few days ago. I wanted a photo of a white rose for a book cover and for a piece of stained glass in Second Life. It’s September. In Western Washington. Not a lot of roses around probably. None in my garden. The only thing I have is a miniature peach rose that hasn’t bloomed all summer.

But…

I mentioned this lack of white roses to my friend, Raine, and she too had none, had seen none, and didn’t expect to at this time of year. Yet, as we walked out to the car to go shopping, she noticed that my tiny rose was finally blooming  — one blossom only. Looking at it closely, we saw that was white and not peach. The label still says “peach” but the rose had gone for white instead.

I’m dismayed to report that my first reaction was to wonder what was wrong with it. My second was to realize that I had asked for a white rose and here it astonishingly was. My third was to silently grumble that I’d had a big, fluffy white rose in mind (though I hadn’t said so) and that this was “only” a paltry little miniature thing. And my fourth was to be ashamed of myself. Sheesh. Perhaps I need to wash my brain out with soap.

In fact, I then realized that a miniature rose was perfect for my needs — after all, both the book cover and the stained glass are for the chat sith dos, the little people, in Marzipan’s Adventures. What would they want with a rose larger than their heads to lug around?

And then I forgot to take the photo.

And now? Yes, I’m grateful for the tiny white rose, for the little bud appearing beside it, for the generosity of MamaNature, and for her delightful response to my need. You can call it a co-incidence if it makes you feel better, but to me and to many others, it’s one of the little miracles that happen often, and it is a joy to notice and be grateful for them.

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So, that is this morning’s response to “write what you really want to say.” As Kenower promised, it made me happy to write it. He also told us to ask ourselves when we’d finished writing if we were satisfied that we’d said what we really wanted to say, our real truth, and if we’d said it accurately. I just read this over, and yes, I did and it did. And you don’t need to worry that I’m going to start doing blogs three times a day — I’ve got a bunch of other things I’d just love to write.

Yesterday I went out and lo! The tiny rose was still blooming, and thus photos were made. So, here, larger than life, is the rose and I hope you can enjoy it without the nonsense I went through about it!

A Might-As-Well-Be-White Rose
A Might-As-Well-Be-White Rose

Truthiness, Energy, & Faery Economics 103

I just awakened (it’s 4:45 AM, but who cares about that?) with faery economics in my head again. I don’t, as you must realize by now, fully understand them, so the fae keep trying to explain them to me. This is very basic stuff to them, but full of shifting energies and mystery to me.

This morning’s lesson: It’s all about change and the exchange.

I woke up wondering why the fae want me to write the books I’m working on, because it is my perception that they do want that very much. (I won’t argue with anyone about whether that is objectively “true” or not—my perceptions may or may not be thy perceptions, but—like all of us—mine influence what I do. So I’m working hard on the books and they are coming along well—again, my perception 😉 ). As I think/intuit my way through Marzipan’s story, it is changing my energy/thoughts/behavior in a way that the world could change—if enough of us want it to make it so. And the oracle book is the same, but different.

The thing I’m learning right this moment is that the reason the fae have so much difficulty with the “money thing” (see http://www.jesalog.com/?s=economic for my first two posts on this) is because their perception and methods are so different from humans. Instead of messing around with earning money with which to attempt to buy things that may not even be for sale, they look for a connection of desire-energy with matching desire-energy. For instance, if I want to see the world change in a certain way and if they want to see the same changes, it obviously (to them) behooves us to work together. Their idea of “working together” seems to be about facilitating things in a naturally magical way that will help both of us to do what we can toward that change, resulting in a synergistic effect that neither of us may be able to create by ourselves.

Like writing books. Well, I can write them by myself, but that doesn’t get them out to other people. For publication and distribution I need both help and “luck”—cooperation, synchronicity, things coming together in surprising but wonderful ways. Meeting the right people “by accident”, receiving the right help at the right time “by coincidence”. Of course, my part in this is to exercise serendipity—the ability to recognize good things when they happen and to take advantage of them. And to, ahem, actually write down the inspirations in a coherent and (hopefully) engaging form.

In practical terms, from my own side of the experience, this seems to result in many things, both large and small, “working” for me in a fashion that is convenient and verging on the miraculous. “Coincidence” and synchronicity abound.

Even if it turns out that we humans can’t or don’t do our part “successfully” there is still value in what we do—in the energy/action. It adds to the total of that energy/action in our Universe, in non-local consciousness, in the Void-which-is-fullness. If we make the effort, it adds to the force of change—and the fae understand that even when we don’t. It’s the effort that counts more than any illusory “results”. You change the world, even if the human part of the world doesn’t notice.

It’s kind of like the hundredth monkey thing. You know that story, right? The one where there are two islands, both inhabited by monkeys but the monkeys of one island are not in physical contact with each other. On one island, the monkeys figure something out and develop a new behavior. They wash their some of their food before eating it. The new behavior spreads throughout the island, and when the last ( or the hundredth monkey, depending on the version) has learned to wash the food before eating it, there is a sudden jump (I suppose this is where nonlocal consciousness comes in). Suddenly, monkeys on the neighboring island, without physical contact with the first group, begin washing their food before eating.

This story has its problems—like whether or not it is “true” in an objective view of truth as factual information. (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundredth_monkey_effect ) However, it has a certain value of “truthiness” for many people. It’s based on something that many feel intuitively is true—that the world can be changed by intangible means—even that behavior can be changed in a widespread group when enough beings adopt the new behavior. It may be objectively true, it may not—we haven’t proved it scientifically either way and we’ve only our internal, intuitive, gut-feeling to go on. It’s about the reality or unreality of nonlocal consciousness, which we’ve talked about before here.

I guess what I’m saying is that it works for me. Does it work for you? (The comments link is at the bottom of the page below the sharing buttons—and your comments would be most welcome!)

Tiaras & Simple Things


The pristine writer’s desk

“When I Was a Queen in My Own Country…”

I woke up with those words in my head a couple of days ago. No dream memories, no context — just those words. And I’ve been puzzling about them ever since.

Quite awhile back, I bought a tiara, a simple, cheap one (but it does sparkle brightly). In fact, I bought three — the first one wasn’t the one I liked best after all, and the third one was for my granddaughter. The idea, which I got from writerly friends that I admire, is to wear it when doing creative writing. Donning the tiara marks off the time and space and acknowledges it (and oneself) as creative, special, magical. This is an excellent idea!

I wore it once.

Then I wove ribbons into it, but it still wasn’t right.

I’m certain that pretty, clean, precise, sparkling tiaras are right for other more princessly and queenly women, but that just isn’t me. I’m realizing that being ill for so long has made me sort of “civilized” — tame or timid or with too much inertia. But I was never meant to be tame; it isn’t in my genes. Sure, “civilized” is okay for a masquerade — can you imagine me nicely dressed, make-up and stylish hair, disguised as a citified business person? I’ve done that, and done it well enough to pass, but it was never me . Such women probably don’t have flyaway hair like dandelion clocks. Or “gardening fingernails”. Or bare feet. Or cat hair all over their velvet skirts. Velvet skirts? Well, yes — silk and velvet are for me. Especially once they get a little worn and have picked up some stains from the flowers and berries and leaves. And glitter is sticking to them in surprising places. You see what I mean?

A tiara is for writing. O yes, definitely for writing, but not just sitting at my desk with the computer. I’ve put a half a picnic table on the back porch with the intention of sometimes writing or doing art work there. Scribbling in a notebook. Messing about with paints. So far, the table is pristine. Unused. No ink spills or paint spatters! Perhaps I should just go out and dribble paint on it and break it in that way? The inertia of illness is a terrible thing.

Now I understand that a different kind of tiara is needed. Most likely it would be made of things that grow in the woods and bits of ribbon and perhaps fragments of faery lace — and, yes, things that sparkle. It wants to have faery faces peering out of it. If I put red sparkly things on it, do you suppose it would attract hummingbirds? Or only mosquitos? I now understand that it must be for much more than writing. Certainly for art. Definitely for gardening as well — grubby hands and radiant crown and dirty knees. Perhaps a tiara could also be for meditating outside where I can smell the flowers and the trees and hear the birds. Or just for sitting there, sipping a tisane. Magic… my magic is in the humble, simple, beautiful things. It’s natural magic — my favorite form of enchantment where the world of the fae intersects with ours.

To be a Queen In My Own Country… This is about being totally oneself, no? And wearing a crown to celebrate this, a crown born from My Own Country? I’d better start gathering the pieces. And I wonder, I just wonder — what kind of a crown or tiara or circlet would you wear to be a King or a Queen in your Own Country?

Writing — a Different Kind of Natural Magic

I would like to see a revolution in the world of book writing, reading, and publishing.

I remember that, when I was a child, it was my habit to take a book up into a tree to do my reading. Sometimes the books got stained with food or dropped into the dirt or leaf stains. These days I love to sit by trees and neatly read or tidily write. When I was young, I drew pictures in the books, underlined some passages, made colored frames around paragraphs or even whole pages, wrote notes and small poems and made doodles in the margins. But

Of course, this was all forbidden. You’re not suppose to write in books, right? Only the author is allowed that privilege. And God/dess knows the author can’t write just anything because the publisher and/or editor is going to re-work every word and idea to suit a pretty rigid set of rules of what a book should contain and how it should look. It should be tidy. It should have straight lines and sharp edges. The corners must be square. The ideas must be rather neatly square too. Linear — we must have linearity! Not many people can get something truly unconventional published — publishers don’t like to take risks. Maximize the profit! It must follow the publisher’s house style. Anything that doesn’t have white pages and black print is terribly daring. The more pristine and untouched a first edition is, the more valuable it is generally believed to be eventually. Gods forbid that you should laugh so hard that you spill something on the pages! And, of course, the bigger the publisher, the more the whole thing is about money.

I got scolded in school, of course, and learned not to damage books. Many years later, I was shocked to find out that there is a sort of art/craft thing about “modified books” where people intentionally desecrate books. They take a book and turn it into something else — a “work of art”. They cut or tear or paint the pages; they glue things to the pages; they make it into something to be looked at instead of read. The original book may even be entirely obliterated. Some of them are fascinating and quite beautiful, in the same way that interesting, even beautiful things can be made from other found objects. But they aren’t exactly books anymore. I’m not against this as long as the books truly had no value as books, but I am interested in another way of thinking about books.

What if one were enhancing and expanding the original book instead of obliterating it?

One of the most satisfying and delightful things I’ve experienced as an author has been discovering what some creative people do to their copies of The Faeries’ Oracle — they write in them, they draw in them, they add objects — memorabilia — to them. These books aren’t necessarily intended as art — they are livres de mémoire, memory books, and the living lore added with such élan enables the owners to creatively expand their understanding of what is already written — as well to remember their own experiences and ideas. But, do you know, I would certainly class them as living art.

I’ll never forget a woman asking hesitantly if I’d mind signing her copy of the Oracle. It was, she explained with some embarrassment, very untidy. She pulled the carefully wrapped book out from a bag. It was tied up in a worn silk scarf, and she gently, almost reverently unwrapped it. It didn’t look much like a copy of the Oracle any more. It was about three times as thick and had several ribbons and things tied around it to hold it together. The cover was seriously battered, the spine detached, the original pages rumpled but still readable, and it had many extra pages glued between the printed pages — some of them on scraps of paper, some on fine handmade papers. All of the pages, original and added, had their blank spaces covered with notes and sketches and diagrams and cartoons. There were fragments of spells and rituals in the margins. Blobs of candle wax showed where the book and the fae had participated in candlelit revels. Preserved leaves and flowers, moss and bark, and even small stones were attached to the pages. There were scraps of lace, fabric, yarn, and ribbons glued in. There were innumerable handmade and lovely bookmarks scattered throughout, often with notes on them as well. It was a masterpiece of love and creativity and memories and inspirations and insights. It radiated boisterous faery merriment and mirth. I was quite literally enchanted by it. I couldn’t put it down or stop asking her questions about the things in it. It was magical.

This all began a slow fermenting process in the back of my mind. Ever since, I’ve been thinking of books as potentially co-created works of art. What if

I hope to write a book about the Green Woman. I want to do wild and astonishing things with it. I’d like it to be so the reader can hear several faery voices talking at once. The fae would like to be able to bounce out of the page and bop you on the nose or give you a sweet kiss. There should be hidden secrets to be found. Wisdom should peek around the corners and want to be chased. It has to be able to glitter and twinkle in appropriate moments. Can this be done? I don’t know. One thing I do know though — it has to have space in it for you to add your own wisdom and encounters with her — and her friends.

Sometimes I go places to sign copies of my books. I sit at my table and try to say something a little special for each person and sign their books neatly. But what if… You can probably guess what I’m thinking here. From now on, I just may sometimes (when I have both time and energy) ask people if they would like the regular signature or a deluxe signature. The regular version is a few words and a signature, neatly entered into the proper page in the book. The deluxe version — what if I took special paper and ribbons and glitter and knackerty faery knotions and on the spot made a page for them to insert into the book? It would be interesting to see if anyone wanted it and if they would actually glue it into the book. I could bring the glue. I wonder if this might even encourage them to enhance the book with their own additions, creating their personal treasure of ideas and memories and experiences.

I’m realizing, just at this moment, that this is what I like about the social media like Facebook and blogs and web sites — I’m not just writing into a total vacuum in these places or for a publisher who thinks it is his job to pummel my vision into something he thinks he can best sell but who probably has no actual interest in it. Instead, here on-line, a few people even write back, and I’m tickled when they do even if I don’t understand or like what they say. Sometimes it’s clear that they didn’t even really read what I said, but obviously they, too, are wanting to connect somehow, to be heard. What makes it really all worthwhile, though, is that quite often the responses are thoughtful, even delightful. Sometimes whole conversations involving several people get started. It’s much more fun than writing into the void.

What if we became actively involved in our own entertainment and learning instead of passive receivers? What if we rediscovered and expanded our joy in our own creativity? How would you feel about that?

Here’s a revolutionary thought: what if children made some of their own school books? What if the teacher wrote the basic facts on the board and the children copied them into a blank book and decorated (not necessarily “illustrated”) the basic information with doodles or pictures or writing? And what if the teacher were wise enough to encourage the children to think/play/create for themselves, to write or draw what each child wanted to instead of going through the motions of meekly following the instructions of the teacher? What amazing concepts might the teacher learn about teaching and living from the children’s unique and creative responses? What might the teacher learn about teaching? What startling and original discoveries might the children make about their lessons and themselves? I can tell you one thing: many grandparents would treasure these created books!

What if publishers included random blank pages and wide margins in books just so we’d have room to expand and add to the book’s value for us? I know it might be extremely difficult to persuade them to do this. Horrors! It would increase costs! Horrors! It would spoil the very neat and tidy design of the pages and the rigid order of the edges and fonts if people wrote in them. It would encourage people to believe that the author of the book might not be the ultimate authority to whom all the rest of us must mutely bow down.

I included a blank card in The Faeries’ Oracle for people to draw their own faery friend on, and the editor was appalled. “People won’t want to spoil the deck with drawings that are inferior to Brian’s!” Well, you know, some people do feel like that about it. There was quite a battle. This tells me two terrible things about how we think about books. One is that our whole way of thinking about books is rigid, moribund, and doomed. The other is that we have a seriously wounded idea of the value of our own creativity. I would like to see a radical revolution in the world of book writing, reading, and publishing. I know I said that above, but it’s worth repeating.

I have this fascination with blank books — the ones you buy to keep a journal or write your dreams or sketch in. I occasionally buy beautiful blank books. They terrify me! What if I spoil them by making a mess in them? They might stay blank forever because I’m not good enough to write or do something worthy of them. But what if I simply deliberately “make a mess” on the first page, ruining the book right off — and then I can do anything in them? Who knows how it might turn out? Or better yet, what if I get my young granddaughter to draw a picture on the first page? After that I could do no wrong… and I would be stepping into natural magic of creation.

Do you see what is happening here? Not only am I preaching to the choir, the many of you who have already sung your books, your writing, and your thinking free, but equally I’m speaking to the pulpit — myself. And I’m doing it because I, too, am stuck in an old dogma about learning and books and thinking and creativity from which I want to set myself free. Would you like to join the revolution? It would give faery yet another way to krow in your life.

Eclipses, Changes, & Cairns

Not complaining really, but I certainly could use a break from eclipses and other potent astrological phenomena. In the midst of the early May lunar eclipse, I decided that I had to completely revamp the on-line class I’m teaching. I’ve been working hard at that ever since. During last week’s solar eclipse, I decided that I finally knew what I really needed to do with a some of my sites that have just been spinning their wheels for a long while without any actual traction. It all started with a when I re-posted on Facebook a link to a blog by my good friend, Nancy Hendrickson, and made the comment that I was having to rethink what I’m doing because of a question she raised there. The question was “What breaks your heart?” and it was part of a series designed to help people find their passion, their personal true north.

Some months ago, I answered that question with “What we are doing to our Earthmother, and what we are doing to our children and their future!” And that is still my heart’s clear clarion call. But my question to myself today was, “So how have I refocused my energies to actually answer that summons?”

Um…

I got complicated about it. Did you see my last blog about complicating things? Well, I’d done it again! I must stay within the parameters of my physical ability to create change. I can use my resources, which are mostly very intangible — my skill in writing, in healing, in teaching — but I can only use them in ways within my physical capacity.

So I’d gone through this convoluted process of concluding that what I could do is to write/teach the things I know on-line… to adults. And yes, I’ve started that process and will keep right on doing this. And the effects will, I hope, ripple out into the world as a force for creating a better world for all of Earthmama’s children. But I wanted something a lot more direct.

As I was thinking about all this, Nancy phoned me. She’d seen my comments and wondered what I was thinking. We were both wondering what we were thinking. We have a nice synergy, Nancy and I. We’ve worked together for so many years that even though we rarely see each other, we talk often about the things that matter most to us. We both have a deep and abiding concern about the global situation ecologically and politically and how that will play out into the future. Unsurprisingly, we concluded that we both have to do whatever we can to try to nudge things into a healthier direction. But what can we do?

I’ll let Nancy tell her own story about this, but I want to share mine with you — just in case it helps you get some traction on your own true north.

There are three things I want to do. First, I want to write more books. People keep telling me that I “ought” to put on paper all the stuff I know about healing and all those things. They say that people need to know. Maybe so. The online Jesa’s Woo Woo Classes are a step in that direction because they get me to actually write these things. But I also want to write some books for children themselves (the kind that adults enjoy reading as well). While I’ve made some efforts in that direction, this needs to move way up on my priority list. I want the books to show how to heal and to enhance ourselves and the world, but they must do so without being “teachy” or “preachy”. I would like them to be simple and wise, to help the spirit and mind to flower on all levels of development, and to be fun! This, it seems, is not easy to write!

Second, I have a website called FaeryWisdom.com and a Facebook community, Faery Wisdom & Fae Dreams. Both of these sites have been languishing while I dealt with other things. They are now knee-deep in dust, but at least it’s faery dust and still has a certain sparkle. (The fae do not think of time as we do. It was at their suggestion that the Facebook page was put up over a year ago, but only now am I starting to understand why they pushed for it in the first place. But, talking to Nancy, I suddenly realized that these were a good base for connecting with the Wise Child Within, the nature spirits, and all of Earthmama’s children. They are potentially a place for us to help each other discover and improve creative ways to move forward in healing the lives of our children — and ourselves. It has to be done in a spirit of joy and kindness, and it has to reach out and be inclusive of all Earthmother’s children. How to do that? I don’t know… I have some ideas, but I’ll need a lot of help to make this fly. If you’re interested, you’d be most welcome on the Facebook site where we can share and discuss ideas.

The subtitle of the Faery Wisdom & Fae Dreams group says: “Faery and the Wise Child Within — for spiritual growth, for healing of the world’s children, for deepening our connection with Mother Nature and our faery kindred.” Description: “For the Wise Child Within — Faery stories (ancient and new), how they see us, some magical knackerty knotions we all can apply, faery nonsense, reading the oracle, faery dreams & visions, original faery art posted only by the creators, experiences with the fae, and more. How can we interact with faery in ways that are healing and inspiring for us, for the Wise Child Within, for the children we connect with, for all of Earthmama’s children? What can we offer to and receive from the fae?

To quote a phrase from an O. Henry story, we need to be “childlike and wise” — and “childlike” and “childish” have almost nothing in common.

And the third thing…

The blessing cairn — when I first moved to where I live now, the process of shaping the land to allow access to humans left me with a big pile of dirt with a nice view of Polaris, the North Star. Faery inspiration struck — you can read about this more fully on BlessingCairn.com. The inspiration was to gradually cover the dirt with layers of stone, to turn it into a cairn, and for each stone placed there, a blessing was to be requested and sent to a particular person or situation. So what I did was to put up the web pages about the cairn and invite people to send requests so I could add them to the cairn. Then, one day when I was sitting on the cairn, something happened.

I’d just placed a few more requested stones on it, and I was focused on the healing and blessings being sent when suddenly I felt this strong sense of connection. At first, I thought it was links to the people that these stones were for, but as the energy came flooding in and flowing through, I realized that it was something much more than that. Yes, it connected to them, but surprisingly, this small, barely born cairn also married with other sacred places of the earth — some very ancient, some quite new. They were all linked in a web of light. And this bright web was anchored in stone, in earth, in many places in this wide world, in the body of Earthmother.

It was an overwhelming experience to feel that network directly. It was also quite surprising to realize that it takes so little to create a sacred space — a few stones and a clear meditative intention, symbolically anchored in the earth. I could see the healing light coming in from other, older and stronger places. But, surprisingly, I could see the light going out from this one to strengthen the rest as well. And with every additional stone and intention, with every meditation, the entire web became stronger.

I would not have thought that anything one person could do would make a real difference, but what I could see and feel here was that it does. It was startling to realize that it wasn’t just me doing my little solitary thing in the woods all by myself, but that it was innumerable people tossing a penny in the “lucky” well, placing a stone on a cairn, saying a prayer for healing and blessing in a church or temple, and that we were all joined together by a scintillating web of light created by the intention of blessing. I didn’t have to do anything to create or join these links. The web of light is alive; it expands to wherever it can put down roots. It can be blessed and made stronger by each of us, and none of us are alone in this. It is, it has to be a community effort — a communion, a sacred act.

And then I had to move away from the land.

So, I did the only thing I could do. I didn’t think it would work, but I put a flowerpot with some earth in it on the porch of the apartment in town that I moved to, and I kept on putting blessings in stones, small ones now, and putting them in the pot. I didn’t expect this to become a part of the world wide web. I planned to carry the stones over to the land and sneakily place them on the cairn. But… the flowerpot linked itself into the web. I could feel it when it connected. Later on, through a series of miracles and kindness, I was able to move back to this land and put the stones in my flowerpot onto the cairn. The cairn had become overgrown — small trees were shooting up rapidly. But the light was still there. Now it is being reclaimed, mostly by the efforts of my neighbor, Tom, who has a Taurean passion for healing the earth.

Which brings me to the new addition to the web, the Blessing Cairn page on Facebook. You know, I puzzled about this. My friend, Nancy, thought it was a good idea. Another friend, Alison, also joined in. It felt like it should start with the three of us. And to my astonishment, I could already feel the light from it. How could this be? How did it anchor into the network of light? Silly question, of course. The WorldWideWeb is a network of energy! Everyone knows that. And it connects into the physical world through computers, large and small, which are touched by hands all around the world. And all kinds of energy flow through it — healing and hurting, pain and sorrow and empathy and joy, anger and love, and even wisdom. It’s all there. Can we make the WWW a brighter place? Can we consciously bring healing to the world through this? I know we can. People are already doing exactly that, often without realizing that they are doing it. Every kind and healing intention blesses and strengthens the web, just as the hurtful, cruel, and dark things dim it. Just as we can with the stones of the earth, so can we do with the silicon chips of our computers and the energy that flows through them. We can add to the light. And the WWW needs all the healing light it can get. We can, if we persist at it, tip the balance toward healing and love.

So, this is about creating and/or strengthening a sacred place in the world to ask for and give blessings and to help with the spiritual healing of Gaia and her children. I’ve already seen how many of you are already doing something like this — gifts of healing, kindness, and compassion going into the world. We invite you to join us. We hope to see more blessing cairns and their many equivalents spread throughout the world in a web of light anchored in stone. We want to consciously focus here on the creation and maintenance of sacred spaces – in our homes, on our land, and in the world, urban and wild, and in the network that is the WWW. We want to see your photos and art work of the sacred spaces you are connected with or are building.

On the WWW we are located at the Blessing Cairn and we welcome you to join us. We’ll be discussing earth energies, healing, the building of cairns, and related things. We’ll be strengthening those sacred sites by interacting with their subtle healing energies, and we’ll be considering how we can best keep them clear and bright, radiating healing and joy out to an uncertain world. But, perhaps most of all, this will be a place for people to request and to give blessings, to pour healing love and light into the world.

So. I have more projects in an already project-overflowing life. But at least these are all the right projects. They make my heart sing. I welcome you to participate when and as you wish.

The photograph is relevant. It’s my granddaughter hugging the Motherstone in the Goddess Garden that was then across from the Blessing Cairn.

© Copyright 2005 Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved to both photograph and text.